


Sunshine

by Lichinamo



Category: Original Work
Genre: Depression, Gen, Inspired by Real Events, Juliette is a Flawed Protagonist, Patrick just wants to Help, but I did it of my own free will, can be read as romantic feelings but currently gen, he's a hallucination born from her need for positive human interaction, it did not work, mention of Patrick Swayze, wrote this to deal with my mental illness, yes one night I did actually imagine Patrick Swayze comforting me
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-30
Updated: 2017-12-29
Packaged: 2019-02-23 21:44:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 5,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13199151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lichinamo/pseuds/Lichinamo
Summary: "Did it go well, sunshine?" Patrick asked me. I hardly registered his question, so I just sniffed and nodded in his chest. Patrick squeezed me a bit tighter, and I couldn't be happier that I was back with him.That's the first time I realized I didn't like being without Patrick.WARNING: references to depression, (brief description of) child-on-child-sexual assault, emotional breakdowns, pill dumping. DO NOT dump your medication if you are taking any.





	1. The Outsiders

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! Long time reader, long time writer, first time poster (on here). I just wanted to say this is a very personal piece of mine that I wrote to help me cope with my depression and associated events in my life. Some things in this story are fact and some are fiction.
> 
> Also I'm naming my chapters after notable Patrick Swayze movies in order of release because I want to

_Why can't I just fall asleep?_ I groaned, rolling over for what felt like the millionth time that night. I just wanted to go to bed, but my body refused to listen to me. My mind was buzzing.

_You lost your friends because you drove them away. You're an awful person. No one loves you. No one will ever love you. No one-_

"Hey, stop that right now," A voice cut into my thoughts. I practically shot out of my bed, five of my stuffed animals tumbling to the floor. I looked around wildly, but there was no one there.

_What the hell was that? I didn't even say that out loud! And there's no one here!_ I scrambled to grab my stuffed animals again. I couldn't sleep in good conscience with them on the floor.

"What do you mean no one's here? I'm a someone and I'm here, so someone's here." The voice had come back.

I dropped my stuffed dog, Lucky, again. The voice had started off in my head, but now it was at the end of my bed. "Who the hell are you?! How the hell are you in here?! Why the hell are you in here?!"

The man at the end of my bed shrugged. "I dunno. All I really know is that I'm here because you need me."

"What do you mean I need you?" I asked quietly, pulling my legs up to my chest. The fetal position is comfortable.

The man, who was looking increasingly familiar, leaned back with his arms behind him and supporting his body. "You're upset and alone and need support. I'm here to give it to you."

I blinked at him. "That. . . Doesn't make any sense."

"I'm just as aware as to why I'm here as you are. Do you know who I am?" The man laid down fully at the end of my bed, wrapping his arms under his head. He was laying horizontally, and my bed was only twin sized, so his legs were dangling off with his feet on the floor, and his head was tipping back slightly off the other end.

It finally dawned on me where I recognized him from. "You look like Patrick Swayze. But like Patrick Swayze in the '80s." I realized he probably didn't know who that was, so I clarified, "he was an actor who passed away a few years ago. He was in some really good movies."

"You can call me Patrick, then, Juliette." Patrick sat back up, laying on his side with his head supported in his hand.

"How do you know my name?" I asked, not even noticing that I was no longer as tense as I was before.

"I'm here to support you, I know everything about you." Patrick started tracing circles on my knee. It was actually pretty relaxing, and I'm sure he'd stop if I asked him to. Not that I was planning on it anyway. "You miss your friends and you're going through a tough time right now. I'm here to help you with that."

"I don't need help with it," I muttered, looking down at his finger on my knee and watching it move around.

"Yes you do, and it's totally fine to need help with it. You're hurting inside, and that's okay." Patrick patted my knee gently. He watched me for a moment, and said softly, "I'm going to hold you now. Is that okay?"

I hadn't realized I was crying until that moment. I buried my face in my hands, but I didn't tell Patrick not to hug me, so he did. He was big and muscular and warm, and I finally got to sleep that night.


	2. Red Dawn

My alarm started blaring in my ear, and I was suddenly aware that it was morning. I felt weird that I was all alone, but I wasn't too sure why, until I remembered Patrick. He wasn't there anymore, which made me kinda sad. I had enjoyed his company last night.

I scarfed down a banana for breakfast, snagged a soda out of the fridge for the day, grabbed my bag and hauled ass to make the bus. My mom was at the neighbor's to take care of their son before his school day, my dad was at work an hour away, and my brother was fast asleep in his bedroom because his first class was an hour after mine, so I was on my own, as usual.

I was feeling okay for a while, absorbed in my phone and ignoring how other people have friends they could talk to. Then class started, and I couldn't go on my phone because I had to 'pay attention and learn', and I got upset. School's very boring and I have a very short attention span, so my mind started wandering back to how almost all my friends I've ever had ended up being driven away because of how passionate, loud, obnoxious, overbearing. . .

"What did I tell you about thinking badly about yourself, sunshine?" A voice cut into my thoughts again, and I practically jumped out of my chair. I had been leaning forward with my chin in my hand and my elbow on my desk, and now I was fully alert and sitting up straight. One or two kids glanced back at me, but they must not have seen what I'd seen.

I bit my tongue. I wanted to respond, but I didn't want to look like a freak for talking in the middle of a boring lecture, so I just snapped in my mind, _What the hell are you doing here, Patrick?!_

Patrick was sitting sideways on the desk beside me, swinging his legs. His left side was the side facing the front of the classroom, and the right was facing the back. Thankfully I sit in the back of the classroom and the desk next to me is unoccupied and in the corner, so I could just discreetly look over. He was wearing the same thing he'd been wearing last night, which was the black tank top and black pants that the real Patrick Swayze wore in Dirty Dancing. "You were thinking badly of yourself again and I came to stop it." He leaned over and poked my nose.

I tried not to roll my eyes at him before turning my attention back to whatever the hell my math teacher was prattling on about. Patrick swung his legs faster and reclined slightly, gripping the desk in his hands. After a few minutes he noticed I wasn't paying him any attention, so he leaned over and started poking me. I just clenched my jaw the whole time, half irritated, half amused. I nearly ran out the door when the bell finally rang, but Patrick was right on my tail.

Patrick slung an arm around my shoulders, and I tried not to snort at him. "I'm not gonna leave you alone until you don't need me."

I really snorted at that, and muttered quietly, "You weren't there when I woke up this morning."

Patrick sighed, squeezing me gently as we walked off to my next class. "You were doing okay this morning, sunshine, and I didn't want to scare you in case you forgot."

I sighed quietly and hoped no one judged me as they walked by. "Admittedly, I thought it was a really weird dream." I got to my next class and settled in to the chair.

Patrick perched on the edge of the desk, so he was kinda sitting on it and his legs were touching the ground. He leaned over, nose practically touching mine, took my chin in his hand, and moved my head gently. "C'monnnn, you know you love my company!"

I couldn't help but smile slightly and let an amused huff of air out of my nose before looking down, but I didn't respond to him.

Patrick decided to peck the top of my head before sliding fully on the desk beside me and swinging his legs just like he had the class before. I turned pink but just shook my head to shake myself out of it before class started. Man, Patrick was weird.


	3. Dirty Dancing

Patrick stuck around for the rest of the day. He kept on sitting on my desk and swinging his legs and poking me and chatting away until my day ended at noon and I climbed into my mom's car. He'd been on my left side the whole day, and when I climbed into the car, he climbed before me and went into the back seat behind the passenger side and rested his hand on my shoulder when I was in. He squeezed it tightly, which made me feel nice.

"How was school today, Juliette?" Mom asked, only half looking at me as she drove out of the parking lot.

I shrugged, ignoring Patrick's 'hey!' from behind me as my movement disrupted the location of his hand. "It was fine." I didn't wanna talk about it, so I didn't say anything. Most of my day had been focused on Patrick, and I wasn't telling my mom about him. "I just wanna go to bed."

"It's noon, Juliette."

"I'm tired."

"That's probably the depression talking," Patrick chimed in. I just signed slightly and shook my head at him, and didn't say anything for the rest of the car ride home.

I felt a coldness starting to seep in me as I was left to my thoughts. Patrick was just sitting behind me, hand firm on my shoulder, and I could see him staring off into space from the rearview mirror. When we finally got to the house, I shoved the car door open, desperate to be in my bed again, and Patrick shot out right behind me. I half-stumbled, but I made my way right up to my bed at about the speed of light. Barely took my shoes off. Barely managed to get into bed.

I got all cuddled up under the blankets, and Patrick laid right beside me. "What's wrong, sunshine?" He asked me quietly.

I just groaned and buried my face into my pillow. "Nuffin'," I grumbled, my voice muffled by the pillow.

I heard Patrick sigh, and he put his arm over me before wrapping it around me. "So it's everything then?"

I just buried my face further into my pillow and grunted at him. Sometimes I just got upset about everything and I didn't know why. My body just liked to be sad, you know?

I felt Patrick squeezing me. "C'mon, sunshine, it's okay to feel that way. You have depression, remember?"

I just groaned and flipped over. I would've been looking at Patrick if my eyes hadn't been closed. I didn't acknowledge him pointing out that I'm depressed for the second time today. _Stupid chemical imbalance,_ I grumbled internally.

I could feel Patrick running his fingers through my hair. "You know that sleep doesn't help you."

"Laying in bed does," I grumbled at him. I was in a grumbly mood, okay?

"Of course it does, it makes you feel warm and safe. Laying in bed is perfectly fine, but don't let yourself fall asleep or you won't get your homework done." Patrick was now resting his head on mine.

I snorted. "Since when did you become my mom?"

Patrick huffed. "I haven't, but you know and I know that you have to do your homework or you'll feel guilty. And if you feel guilty, you'll feel even worse."

I groaned loudly and thumped my head against the pillow, ignoring that it probably disturbed Patrick. "Why do you have to know me so well?"

Patrick let out an affectionate sounding huff. "That's what I'm meant for, sunshine. That's what I'm meant for."


	4. Road House

"How come I frequently find myself telling you not to do things?" Patrick asked me from where he had been sitting from behind me on the big armchair I was sitting on.

I bit back a groan and decided to play innocent. "I haven't the faintest idea what you're talking about."

I could practically feel Patrick quirking an eyebrow from behind me. "You're going through old texts, Juliette."

I just let out a very bitter groan. "Okay, fine, I'm looking at old texts from when my friends actually liked me. Happy now?"

"No I'm not. Why are you looking at those texts? Why do you even still have them? They'll just make you sad because they're not in your life anymore."

I sighed at him, turning my phone off briefly and putting it down. "It's just. . . Why don't they want to be my friends anymore?" I ran my hand over my face. "I was willing to work through my problems with them. We'd been through so much together. I loved them, damn it! I never wanted to lose them!"

Patrick sighed and made his way down next to me so we were squeezed together, one arm going behind me. "I don't know, sunshine, I really don't. Sometimes people just stop being friends."

"But they hurt me."

"I know they did, sunshine. Maybe they meant to, maybe they didn't, but I couldn't tell you. It's okay to be hurting over this, but you shouldn't go looking to remind yourself of it. That'll just hurt you more. I don't like it when you're hurting." Patrick was rubbing his hand up and down my side.

"I don't like it either, Patrick, I really don't. I don't want to be hurting. But sometimes I get so sad and I'm hurting so much emotionally that my body starts hurting and that hurt doesn't help the hurt that I already have." I wanted to curl up into a little ball and die in that moment. I didn't like to acknowledge that I'm hurting.

Patrick squeezed me so tight that I thought I was gonna explode. He rested his chin on my head. "I know, sunshine, I know. I really wish I could take the pain away from you, but I can't. I promise I'm gonna do my best though."

The conversation was getting too mushy for me and I decided an abrupt topic change was the only way I could prevent myself from totally sobbing. "Why'd you start calling me sunshine?"

Patrick knew that I changed the topic abruptly so I wouldn't cry and I knew it, but he rolled with it. "Why wouldn't I call you sunshine?"


	5. Ghost

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CONTENT WARNING: This is the chapter with the semi-graphic description of child-on-child sexual assault.

"Oh by the way, I'm not going in with you to therapy." Patrick suddenly stopped walking behind me.

I turned abruptly on my heel to look at him, with what I was sure the most surprised expression I've ever had. I wouldn't know, I couldn't see. "Wait, what?"

Patrick shrugged at me before leaning back against the wall. "Therapy is a private thing and I don't want to infringe on that."

"So? You already know everything about me." In all honestly, I was scared. It'd been three days since I'd first met Patrick, and other than that one morning, I hadn't been without him since, excluding time in the bathroom. I have boundaries.

"I don't want to distract you or make you hold back on things that you would say if I wasn't there." Something in my facial expression must have been concerning to Patrick, because he quickly amended, "I promise I'll be right here the whole time."

I scuffed my shoe against the ground and let out a sigh. "Fine, I'll go to therapy by myself," I grumbled quietly.

"You've always gone to therapy by yourself. You even make your mom stay in the car. What's wrong, sunshine?" Patrick asked quietly, watching me with a gentle expression.

"It's just. . . I haven't been alone in a while," I mumbled, staring intently at my feet rather than him. "You've always been with me."

Patrick put his hand on my shoulder gently before tilting my chin up so I was forced to look at him. He did so gently, though. "Me not going in with you doesn't translate to me abandoning you. I told you I'd be right here the whole time, and I swear to you I will be. I'm not leaving you all alone, sunshine. I'll never leave you all alone. Promise."

I took a deep breath, not even aware that I had been shaking until now. ". . . Okay. Okay. Okay. I'm okay. Why wouldn't I be okay? I'm perfectly okay. Okay. I can't stop saying okay!"

Patrick gave me a very quick, very tight hug. "You're really gonna be okay, sunshine. C'mon, let's get you in there." He all but shoved me to the door, and I stumbled over my feet for a bit before I got in the room. I managed to close the door as I semi-fell, though.

It took me a moment to get even a little bit of my composure, so I just plopped right down on the end of the couch and huffed slightly. "Heyo Mickey."

My therapist, Mickey, had to be somewhere in her thirties or forties and was already in the chair she sat in with a book on her lap. She looked up at me and smiled her small-but-attempting-to-be-genuine smile. "Afternoon, Juliette. What's been going on in your life the past two weeks?"

I shrugged, leaning back on the couch and crossing my legs. "Nothin' much. None of my old friends are talking to me still. A few days ago I made a new friend though. I really like him."

If Mickey weren't a trained therapist who didn't visibly emote too often, I'm sure that her eyebrows would've shot right into her hairline. "Him?"

I nodded, not making eye contact and tracing circles on my thigh with my nail. "His name's Patrick."

"And you're comfortable with him?" Mickey was leaning towards me in her chair. I thought her eyes were gonna bare into my soul.

I shifted uncomfortably. ". . . Yeah. Yeah, I am."

This was a big deal for me. When I was 11 years old, I was molested in the back of a classroom by a fellow classmate. He came from behind me and latched on to my breasts. I took it pretty casually at the time, but over the years it started to really effect me negatively. It's actually why I started therapy, and most likely a major force in my depression. I haven't really been comfortable with non-relative men since.

Mickey gave me a very proud smile. "That's great, Juliette! Do you make physical contact with him at all?"

I nodded slowly. "We hug a lot. He's helping me out with my depression."

"I'm so proud of you, Juliette. How did you meet him?" Mickey was writing furiously on a notepad in her lap.

I was gonna say 'he showed up on my bed in the middle of the night when I was sad a few days ago', but something held me back from that. I don't even know why, so I just said, "He started going to school with me. We have identical schedules, so I see him all day."

Mickey nodded along. "I'm glad you have someone to be with you in school that doesn't have anything to do with your old friends."

I fiddled with a string on my shirt now, twirling it around. I didn't wanna talk anymore. "Mhm."

Mickey noticed this. I wasn't exactly the most subtle of people. "How about we end early today, Juliette?"

I shot to my feet and was out the door with hardly a 'bye Mickey', and it slammed shut behind me. Right across from the door, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed and just the biggest smile ever, was Patrick. He was exactly where he'd said he'd be, and I didn't even stop moving. I wrapped my arms around him, and he wrapped his around me, and it felt so nice to be back with him that I didn't even feel the pain you'd expect to feel when you run straight into something.

"Did it go well, sunshine?" Patrick asked me. I hardly registered his question, so I just sniffed and nodded in his chest. Patrick squeezed me a bit tighter, and I couldn't be happier that I was back with him.

That's the first time I realized I didn't like being without Patrick.


	6. Point Break

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is an amazing coincidence that this chapter title lines up well with the plot

I was bouncing nervously in my chair, practically ripping my nails off with my teeth.

Patrick was sitting on the desk next to me. "You did fine, Juliette. I promise you got a good grade."

Last week I had turned in a huge project for my chemistry class, which I'm literally garbage in. I had to make a household item out of other household items, so I had found a bath bomb recipe and made a bunch of different colored bath bombs. I had spent a lot of time on it and hoped that my teacher would like it. Mister Johnson and I didn't exactly see eye to eye, but I hoped he saw I had tried really hard.

Murphy's Law, the law that anything that can go wrong, will go wrong, has a demonic little sister that not many people talk about: never get your hopes up or your feelings will just get crushed worse.

Mister Johnson dropped the project paper on my desk and sneered at me. It was upside down.

Patrick was in attack cat mode, and his hackles would be raised if he had any, ready to jump up and comfort me if he needed to.

I lifted up the paper and saw the ugly red ink before anything else.

38.

BATH BOMBS ARE NOT HOUSEHOLD ITEMS.

"Sunshine, it's okay. It's just a grade. It doesn't matter." Patrick was right next to me, treating me like I was made of glass.

"It's fine, Patrick. I don't care." I wasn't lying. I wasn't feeling anything right then.

"Are you sure?" Patrick asked quietly.

"I'm sure," I murmured. Because I didn't care at all. Not even when I heard people chattering on about their grades and how little they'd tried.

I just wasn't feeling anything. That wasn't that concerning to me; emotional numbness is a common symptom of depression, and I'm very well acquainted with numbness.

I knew I should be concerned that I'm numb, but honestly I've been numb so often that I've become desensitized to it.

Patrick looked like he knew that I'm numb, and that he was concerned, but to be completely honest I honestly didn't care. All I wanted to do was go to bed.

The rest of the day passed like a blur. I barely even paid attention to Patrick. I slept for three hours when I got home, and didn't even half ass my homework. I just didn't have the energy for that. Even taking stuff out of my bag was too draining.

Patrick was at my bedside, not actually on my bed this time but next to it so I was facing him because I barely had energy to move. He was begging me to brush my teeth. "Please, Juliette, sweetheart, sunshine, brush your teeth. I know you don't have energy right now and I know moving is hard, but you have to take care of your teeth. Please."

"I don't wanna," I grumbled into my pillow, clutching a stuffed animal with my legs.

"Please do it baby. Please." Patrick looked so desperate.

I felt a tiny prick of badness inside of me, and I dragged myself out of bed with a tired huff. Have you ever ran 8 miles straight with no break, with ten pound weights on your arms and legs? Do you know how tired you feel afterwards? You feel like every cell in you has become completely devoid of all energy, and they're all screaming in pain and to just please, please end it all just so they don't have to suffer anymore.

Yeah, that's how it feels when you're in the middle of a depressive slump. At least that's how my depressive slumps feel. They're different for everyone.

My bare feet shuffled against the floor, my body slouched over so bad I probably looked half a foot shorter. I wanted to minimize the energy I would expend on this.

When I got in the bathroom, I dragged the toothbrush out of the drawer. It was one of those electric ones, cause I don't have the best teeth in the world.

Then I pulled out the toothpaste, and just barely twisted the cap off. I put the toothpaste down first, I don't even know why I did that but I did, and I started to put the cap down. I was shaking though, and the cap spun out of my fingers.

It was one of those scenes in a movie where the protagonist loses their love, the one thing in the world that they care about, as they plummet to their untimely death. The world stopped spinning, I stopped breathing, as the cap slowly twisted and twirled through the air, cutting through it as a knife does to cake. I could feel a small part of me break with each little movement of the cap.

Then it slammed into the ground with a thump that I swear will echo in my ears for all eternity, and it bounced and twirled in the air, and bounced and twirled, and bounced and twirled, until it landed on its side like a docile cat. I fought the goo that was holding me back from moving, but my foot slid forward before my arm got hold of the cap, and it went sliding. It slid and slid and slid until it went under the radiator and into the cold, dark trench that lurks below all radiators.

I fell to my knees and scrambled to try and rescue the damsel in distress that was trapped in the darkness. I could feel my knuckles getting scraped from the harsh metal that was between me and the poor lost cap. It wasn't meant to be, though. That cap was gone forever.

I hadn't even realized I had been screaming until I felt Patrick's big, warm arms wrapping around me. I hadn't even realized I'd been crying until my vision started to blur. I hardly knew what was going on. All I knew was that the cap was gone.

Gone.

As in, never coming back.

Nothing ever comes back. Once things are gone they're gone for good. Forever.

My friends are gone forever. My innocence is gone forever. And now my cap is gone forever.

"Juliette! Sunshine, darling, look at me, please. It's okay, it's okay, it's okay, I promise you it's okay. You're gonna be fine. It's okay." Patrick's voice was so soft and soothing, and his arms were warm and forgiving.

I heard my own voice, but I hadn't realized I was speaking. "G-Gone. G-Gone. G-Gone."

"Sunshine, darling, it's okay. It's not gone. It's just under the radiator, Juliette. It'll never be gone. You know exactly where it is, sunshine. It'll be there forever." Patrick was rocking me back and forth.

I didn't have the energy to respond to him. I just buried my face into my hands and cried. I'd never been more grateful that my parents were at couple's counseling, and my brother was never home.

I just wanted it to be me and Patrick.


	7. City of Joy

Apparently when your mother catches you hugging yourself while sobbing and rocking in the bathroom because Patrick had to go get something to make you feel better, she becomes concerned.

Well, more concerned than she already was.

"Maybe we should up your dosage," Mom mused as I was kept hostage at the kitchen table.

I had been hunched over with my head in my hand before I shot up. "I've been trying to convince you to get me to go from 25 to 100 milligrams for three months now, Mom. You've said it was bad for my liver or whatever."

Mom sighed at me. "Do you want me to up your dosage or not?"

I looked over at Patrick sitting next to me. I felt like I wanted to say yes, but I wanted his opinion.

Patrick nodded at me.

I sighed. "Yes, Mom. Please."

**********

My psychiatrist, who is a nice lady named June, got me my increased meds a few days later.

That was a week ago.

I haven't seen Patrick since.

It was driving me insane. I was missing him like crazy, I kept tearing my hair out anxiously, and I was constantly rocking back and forth in my chair.

My family was getting really concerned for me. Then they got it into their head that I wasn't getting enough socialization, which is true. I never leave the house, but I don't like leaving the house.

And that's how I got dragged to a concert.

Some people like concerts. I do not. They are loud and crowded and people leave things everywhere and I don't like it.

Which is how I ended up huddled in the bathroom corner, covering my ears and rocking back and forth.

"Patrick, Patrick, Patrick," I whimpered without realizing. I thought if I kept repeating his name, but no dice. He wasn't showing up.

Time was an illusion. I only knew it passed when my alarm on my phone went off. Which was weird, cause I went in the bathroom at six o'clock, and I don't take my medication until eight.

Wait.

My medication.

Patrick went away when I upped my dosage.

Maybe if I stopped taking it. . .

"No, no, no, bad idea, bad idea," I whispered to myself. It was a bad idea. Bad, bad bad.

But if stopping brings Patrick back. . .

I knew what I had to do.

I shakily opened the pill bottle that I had in my front pocket, and dumped it down the toilet.

I flushed before I could regret it.

And then I waited.


	8. Tall Tale

"Have you absolutely lost your mind?!"

I opened my eyes and smiled up at him from my place in the corner. I had returned to the fetal position after I had flushed my meds. "I missed you, Patrick."

Patrick frankly looked how I felt; like a disaster. His hair looked like it needed a good washing, he had bags under his eyes, and he looked like he'd lost a few pounds. He knotted his fingers in his hair in frustration. "God damnit, Juliette, you can't do stuff like that! You need your medication."

"I need you, Patrick."

Patrick deflated like a week old balloon. “I-. . . I’m sorry I wasn’t here for you when you needed me, sunshine. I promised you I’d always be here for you, and then I wasn’t. . .”

“It was the medication’s fault, Patrick, not yours,” I said, putting my hand on his shoulder. “You can be here for me now.”

Patrick shook his head. “No, you’re going to tell your mother that you knocked into your pill bottle when it was open and they spilled everywhere so you can get a refill. Your medication is more important than I am.”

“I don’t need medication, I need you!” The words burst out of me in frustration. “The medication doesn’t do a damn thing to make me feel better, but you do, so I’m going to pretend I’m still taking it for the time being and you’re going to be here for me!”

Patrick put his hands on my shoulders. “Juliette. . .”

“I’m not going to tell my mom a thing about the medication, so you can either be here for me while I don’t take it, or not be here for me while I don’t take it. It’s your choice, Patrick,” I glared up at him, more defeat than bite tinging my words

Patrick closed his eyes. “I don’t agree with what you’re doing, but I will never leave you. Not of my own free will.”

I hugged him tightly, knowing that meant he would stay with me forever. “Thank you, Patrick. Thank you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm aware of the fact that this is a short chapter, but this is all I've got. This probably will be all I've got for a long time. I'm not sure if I'm going to continue this because I initially stopped writing it last year due to it worsening my mental state.


End file.
